


The Lady and the Unicorn

by LostWendy1



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, The Last Unicorn - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostWendy1/pseuds/LostWendy1
Summary: A retelling of Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn starring characters from the ACOTAR-verse.A unicorn sets out on a journey to find the rest of her kind, accompanied by Cassian, the Illyrian Magician, and the mysterious and grumpy Nesta Archeron. Following a narrow escape from the monster Bryaxis, Cassian accidentally changes the unicorn into a fellow Fae. While Bryaxis may be the one chasing down Prythian's unicorns, following him leads to even more danger: an encounter with the King Hybern and his adopted son, Prince Lucien. The king does not trust Cassian and Nesta's companion, the Lady Elain, while Prince Lucien is more than willing to get to know her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer that I am not Sarah J Maas and therefore do not own the characters from her ACOTAR books, nor am I Peter S Beagle and neither do I own the rights to his book, The Last Unicorn. This fic has been written for fun and I am making no money off of it. As this is a melding of the two works, if you are a fan of Beagle, you’ll recognize lines from his book and movie (which he also wrote the script for). I will gladly admit which lines are his if questioned, but I hope that fans enjoy the references and how they help tie the two stories together. Occasionally there will also be lines/references from the ACOTAR books as well. :)

 1.

 

The sun was slanting sideways by the time the two Fae had reached the lilac woods. They were hunting for wolves on the word of some lesser fae from the Spring Court, who said the creatures were abnormally large and vicious and terrorizing their young. But as of that afternoon, their packs remained empty and their weapons clean of blood.

Azriel, the elder of the two, shook his head. “I mislike the feel of this forest,” he said quietly. He took a step forward, holding his hand up to pause his friend’s horse, and peered into the shadows of the nearing trees, his own shadows, trails of thin black smoke, flitting around his neck and shoulders as if agitated. He held his dagger out but low, his hazel eyes furrowed and perplexed.

The younger hunter, Andras, immediately nocked an arrow. “What do you see?” he whispered. “Tell me where to aim.” He turned wildly in the saddle, eager to put a kill under his belt.

Azriel allowed himself a small smile. Though his pointed ears and yellow eyes were as sharp as any Fae, Andras was young and unproven. Many had cautioned Azriel from bringing the younger male along with him, but Azriel could see, through the desperation to prove himself, that Andras was strong and brave. “No, there are no wolves here, my friend. Do you not feel it?” The cobalt Siphons on Azriel’s arms and legs twinkled in the waning light.

Andras rolled his eyes and put his arrow back in his quiver. “Your shadows do not speak to me, you know that. What is there, here in this lilac wood?” His horse pawed the ground, sensing his master’s impatience.

“I did not think I’d ever find such a wood.” Azriel straightened, and stretched his wings before sheathing his dagger. The black smoke circling his head briefly disappeared before coalescing, reforming this time around his chest and upper arms. “This is a unicorn’s wood. We no longer stand in the Spring Court. Evil flees in the face of such pureness. Indeed, we’ll find no game here either. It is a different magic a unicorn has and therefore a different land altogether.”

“Unicorn?” Andras snorted, sounding much like his animal friend. “Unicorns do not exist. I have never seen one.”

Azriel chuckled. “And you did not think Shadowsingers existed until you had met me.”

Andras gave his friend a flat look before rolling his eyes again. Running his hands through his brown hair, he said, “Well, if there are no wolves here, then we should be off. They are expecting a report back before sunset, and we are losing good hunting time.” He grabbed his reins and clicked his tongue, signaling to his horse.

Azriel nodded and made to follow Andras before stopping again, and turning once more to peer off into the deeper woods. A single, solitary wisp of smoke broke free, trailing in front of him, searching, seeking. . .

“Az, what is it?” Andras pulled his horse to a stop when he realized his friend wasn’t following him.

“It is a unicorn wood,” he muttered, “but I fear for her.” He waved his gloved hand for Andras to hold just a moment. “Stay where you are, poor beast,” he called out loud. “This is no world for you. Stay in your forest, and keep your trees green and lilacs young, for I fear you are the only one who can do so. Good luck to you, for you are the last.”

Azriel watched the trees in their unnatural stillness for a moment longer before rejoining his friend. Andras, politely, did not utter another word until they had left that strange wooded place.

 

***

 

Long after the two Fae had abandoned the woods but before the sun’s warmth had left the tops of the leaves, the unicorn stepped out from her grove.

“I am the last?” These were the first words the unicorn had said out loud in many years, but she had been pondering the male Fae’s words long and hard, and could not accustom herself to his truth. She could not be the last unicorn--would she not know if she were the last? While it was true that she had been alone for quite some time, unicorns are solitary creatures by nature, and nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. _No_ , she thought. _What do men know? What do others know of me and my kin? We do not vanish. . . Am I truly the last?_

She began to move quickly, then, through her woods. _Oh, I could not leave my woods_ , she thought despairingly. _These are my trees, my rowans and elms and oaks, even my blackthorns though they loom so darkly. These are my flowers, my lilacs, my clematis, my roses, even my crabapples though their fruit is so sour. How could I leave my winding rivers, my lakes, my ponds? My darling sparrows, my butterflies, my ladybugs?_

She ran faster and faster, hooves thundering, dirt flying. She saw not a single creature as she fled, though she tried to tell herself that was normal. Just because she had not seen a fellow unicorn in many years did not mean they no longer existed. Trees flew past in a whirl of green, the sky darkened in a ombre ribbon of blue to purple to black. The wind blew through her white mane, tickled her pale skin. Her nostrils flared, taking in all the sweet and bitter scents, smells she knew as well as the back of her hooves. She could identify each and every one with her eyes closed if she chose, the same as she could pick out the calls of each individual robin and starling as they sang their songs of sunrise. These were her woods. She could not leave them.

Suddenly, the unicorn found herself at the edge of the forest.

Her hooves aligned with the boundary between lands, between her woods and the outer world. She had kept herself company for so many years and she found she had been enough. There had been no need to seek another. But the idea that she was the only unicorn left. . . it did not sit well with her. The question drove her as on a rampage until she had nearly toppled out of her land into the unknown. Could she, perched as she was on the precipice, venture off and discover what had happened to the others, to her family? What would happen to her little lilac woods? What would happen to her?

 _I must go quickly_ , she thought, _and come back as soon as I can. Everything will be all right if I go quickly. I will find the others and laugh at myself for letting doubts creep in, and nothing will happen to me. And I will come back as soon as I can._

The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she stepped out of it, alone.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

2.

 

The unicorn had been traveling for some time, sticking to the shadows of the tall maple trees and giant oaks that filled the forests surrounding her little wood. Occasionally she came upon a small village of wooden houses and even a few large manors, standing tall with white marble columns and gabled windows, but she avoided them all. She could not remember how long it had been since she had last come in contact with another living being, but her encounter with the Fae who had called her the last of her kind had been too close, and it unnerved her. 

She traveled as much as she could during the day and hid in bushes and thickets at night. She did not know where she was going except that she felt she must go and go everywhere. Now that she had left her lilac wood, she could not rest until she had found her fellow unicorns and what had become of them.

Soon, the sun-filled forests gave way to autumn light and dappled trees. Redwoods dominated her vision while orange and yellow leaves danced and twirled underfoot in the warm afternoon breeze. How many trees did she pass on her travels? She did not know. How many ponds and streams did she splash through on her journey? She did not stop to keep count. She had no need to. Time is irrelevant to a unicorn, for they are an immortal creature. The sun rises and the days pass. Eventually days become years and years centuries, but those are just numbers, and numbers mean nothing when one is born with eternity.

For this unicorn, she found the sun rose above forest and valley alike, even valleys that abandoned their colorful quilt of leaves for a deep slumber beneath blankets of crystallized snow and blinding ice. Here, the trees froze in blue-tinted bark, branches bare and wrinkled like a desperate hand reaching towards whatever warmth was left in the pale, cream-colored sun.

Finally, the snow melted and gave way to raw, imposing mountains and bleak, drought-ridden plains. As soon as her hooves crunched over the stiff, straw-like grass, a sense of foreboding coursed through her, sending her up on her hind legs, her eyes rolling in her head. This was a dark land full of unknown enchantments, and she did not like it.

“May the Cauldron save you, fine creature.”

She jumped and whinnied at the sound of the strange, whispery voice. Was someone speaking to her? No one had ever spoke so plainly to a unicorn before!

“May the Cauldron save you and Mother hold you,” the voice said again. She turned to her right where a small, thorny bush, bereft of leaves, sat. There, upon the topmost thorn, was a small gray moth. If she had been a regular horse, her plain eyes would have missed it. “May you pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey,” the moth continued. Its voice was soft and light, delicate feathers brushing tenderly upon one’s cheek.

“Are you cautioning me, young one?” the unicorn asked. “Is there danger ahead?”

The moth blushed, such as a moth can blush, tiny pinpricks of rosy pink flooding its fuzzy gray wings. “I hope you fear no evil,” it said to her. 

“I do not fear evil,” she said, “except that I fear the unknown. I am looking for other unicorns. Have you seen any pass this way?”

The moth jumped suddenly, leaving its prickly perch and fluttering up and down in front of her long nose. “I hope you feel no pain.”

The unicorn laughed, shaking her head. “I shall feel no pain unless I cannot find my brothers and sisters. Have you seen them, you flighty thing?”

The moth darted here and there, first to the left and then to the right. Up a foot above her, and then a foot before her. “They passed down all the roads, long ago, and Bryaxis ran close behind them and covered their footsteps.”

The moth’s voice grew hard to hear as it danced away from her, and she was forced to follow it. “So you’ve seen them?” She struggled to keep the excitement from her voice as her hooves tripped and slipped down a hard root-covered path. “Who is Bryaxis?”

The moth circled her head, tickling her mane, before looping her ears. “I hope you fear no evil. I hope you feel no pain,” the feathery voice repeated. “He is evil and pain and shadow and darkness and tusks and teeth and nightmare incarnate.”

Large trees with pinching branches descended upon the two creatures, and what little sun there was disappeared in this thick copse of skeleton wood. The moth stopped and hung in the air before her eyes. Its own eyes began to glow. “Bryaxis will chase them all to the ends of the earth. Go now, and enter eternity.”

That sense of foreboding that had plagued the unicorn upon her entrance to this land was back, and her hair rose along her spine. “What do you mean, little moth?” Her eyes darted around, only now truly taking in the dark path and twisting trees, the chilling air and silent breeze. “Where have you taken me? Moth, where do we go?”

A female voice beyond the trees suddenly cackled. “That’s no moth, my innocent one!”

The unicorn pranced back and forth, but the trees had somehow closed in behind her and she was trapped. A thorny maze and no way out! Was this the way of her brothers and sisters? Was that Bryaxis who had laughed so sharply?

She whinnied in terror, true terror, for the first time in her long immortal life as the new voice called again, as piercing as an arrow “Keir, grab the puca! You there, get that beast! NOW!”

A net of some kind fell on her, and a pin-prickly shiver ran through her whole body. Magic. Dark magic, she realized, if it could keep her down.

There was a tug on the net, not ungentle, but she tripped all the same. “It's all right,” said a male’s voice. He spoke softly, his voice going in and out as the magic flooded her mind, took hold of her senses. “Just walk along with me, and you’ll be all right.”

“Get a move on, you stupid Illyrian!” Another male with a deeper voice bellowed. “My lady wants the creature now.” He yanked again, this time so roughly the unicorn fell forward and knew no more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACOTAR fans might find most of the moth's words familiar, as it is a Faerie prayer from the first book.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

 

Her eyes felt heavy, her mind foggy, her mouth dry. The world slowly, meanderingly, came into focus but grew no less confusing as the unicorn could not understand why she was lying on such hard ground nor why she could not smell the sweet scent of lilacs drifting on the breeze. But as her vision cleared and her awareness returned, the unicorn sighed mournfully, feeling a mix of consternation and shame, two rare--almost nonexistent--emotions for unicorns to have, which only made her feel worse.

She remembered leaving her darling little lilacs for tall sycamores, but there were no tall sycamores here in this grove, nor orange and red leaves blanketing the ground. She then recalled trotting past the sycamore trees into a land of snow and ice, but there was no snow soft and quiet as goose down here, nor razor-sharp spikes of icicles suspended from bare branches in the frigid sky above. She then recollected racing through the land of softly falling snow before falling suddenly into a world of melancholy and despair. A world of sorrow and distress. A world of wretchedness and discomfort.

She had been caught, and no one had ever caught a unicorn before. It was unthinkable. She did not know what to do or how to react in such a situation as the mere idea was so far removed from the consciousness of her kind that the protocol simply did not exist.

The unicorn took a deep breath, inhaling slowly through her nostrils to stem the tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her, and took in her new surroundings. Iron bars stood on all four sides of her with a metal roof above and dirty straw below. Her enclosure was magicked, she discovered, for the bars did not even dent when she kicked them with her strong hooves, and if a unicorn could not escape, surely magic was at work.

She snorted loudly and tossed her bright white mane, panic giving way, conceding just for a moment, to anger. How dare someone capture a unicorn! Did they not know her unique? Did they not understand the worth of a creature such as she?

Just then, a shadow fell across the front of her cage, and the unicorn looked up to see a Fae with red-gold hair that shone like the sky at sunset watching her with crossed arms. “Well, well, well,” the female said with a smile. “I’m used to catching coal with my little puca trap. Imagine my surprise when it dragged in a diamond.”

She paced in front of the cage, and the unicorn noticed for the first time a large caravan of covered wagons just beyond her own sitting in a half-circle, taking up most of their little clearing. A long black canvas hung across two of them, proclaiming in giant red letters, “Lady Amarantha’s Carnival of Nightmares.” Underneath that, in smaller letters, someone had written, “Venture under the mountain and witness Prythian’s dark side.”

The unicorn shivered. She would find no help here, nor kindness from these fae. She was only satisfied that her kin had not ended up in this carnival, though that did nothing to temper the sadness she felt over her current condition.

“You shall be my show’s newest star, my little jewel. I shall attract all sorts of audiences and everyone shall be in my thrall.” A slow grin spread across Amarantha’s face, for surely that must be she and this must be her carnival. “It’s not everyday that one captures a unicorn, much less sees one. I hope you enjoy your new home, darling.” She leaned forward, her bright red lips just inches from the unicorn’s nose, and lowered her throaty voice to a whisper. “Because you’re going to be here for a very, very long time.”

The unicorn narrowed her eyes but did not deign to answer. This Amarantha did not deserve to hear the voice which had once blown wind back into a butterfly’s wings and dripped starlight into the eyes of a chestnut owl.

Amarantha straightened and snapped her fingers. Almost immediately, two male fae appeared from out of nowhere. “Bring our new guest some more hay. I have no doubt she is hungry, and we must keep our star comfortable.” She cackled again, each shriek a knife-like thrust in the unicorn’s heart.

The unicorn put her head down and watched as Amarantha’s two helpers argued over who would take care of her. The older of two males, hair graying at his temples, pointed in her direction several times. Both their voices rose and fell, up and down in roars and whispers, but she did not care enough to pay attention to the words. Hay was hay and captured was captured. The who and why did not matter.

Eventually, the older male threw his head back in a grunt of frustration, shoved the younger male aside, and stomped away. The younger one pursed his lips in grim satisfaction, and then cautiously turned towards her, approaching her cage at a careful snail’s pace. Whether this was due to nervousness or a quick perception of her worth and abilities, the unicorn could not hazard a guess. But as he gradually moved closer, she observed the Fae with her usual detached curiosity.

He wore a tattered brown leather tunic under a midnight blue cloak, which bunched up in back over his muscled shoulders as if he carried a great pack with him. He wore his shoulder-length black hair loose, and though he held his bronzed arms still as he walked, she was able to catch a glimpse of something glinting, metallic, sheathed in a brown belt around his waist. He was strong, she could see that immediately, but something about the way he moved proved he was also prudent in the use of his strength. The most remarkable thing the unicorn noticed about this male, however, were the red gems he wore in various locations around his body. She did not know their purpose nor did they shine very bright, but she counted seven in total: two each on his wrists and elbows and two on his knees, with the last and largest of them all resting on his chest against his collarbone just under the clasp of his cloak.

The unicorn watched, ears back and eyes alert, but did not move or speak.

Once he reached about a foot away from the bars of her enclosure, he knelt down in the dirt. “I am sorry I helped to put you in this cage,” he said quietly. “You do not deserve this.”

The unicorn silently agreed, but continued to regard him warily.

He exhaled loudly and scrunched up his face, conflicted. “Look, I can bring you some hay, but--”

“Hay is for horses,” she announced loudly, her objection to hay much more important than her resolution to remain silent. “I am no mere horse so I do not eat hay.” She was unable too to keep the superiority from her voice, and tossed her mane from one shoulder to the other. “I eat but sparingly, but when I do, I sip from the reflection of the moon in mountain lakes and nibble on honeycombs from the bees whose pollen is harvested from the tulips of the low valleys.”

He blinked in surprise at her outburst, and then chuckled quietly. “I am sorry, my lady. We are not quite so prepared as that, so I can only offer you hay. To be honest, I don't think any of us expected to find you for we thought your kind to be gone from our land completely.” He cocked his head to the side; it was now his turn to study her, and the unicorn found she did not like it. “Forgive me for being rude, but are you the last---the last of your kind?”

The unicorn snorted, blowing straw out of her cage and all over the male’s lap. He grinned and held his hands up in surrender. “I suppose I deserve that. Which means you definitely do not deserve to be in this cage.” He sat back on his heels then, casting furtive glances to his left and right. “I cannot claim to be all-powerful, but if you trust me, I will help you escape if I can.”

The unicorn eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you that I should trust you so well with the life of the last unicorn?”

He bounced back on his ankles once before popping up to this feet and flourishing her with a large bow, bending low over his right arm while throwing his cloak back behind him with the left. “You may call me Cassian, my lady! Resident Illyrian magician, at your service!”

“I have not heard of an Illyrian before,” the unicorn responded indifferently, “but I once knew a vole who enclosed a caterpillar within a daffodil only to remove it a few seconds later from the mouth of a very surprised fawn.”

“Well, there aren’t many Illyrians left either, so I suppose we have that in common.” Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “I try to perform tricks. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. Mostly I just argue with Keir over whose turn it is to feed the other creatures.” He shrugged in an offhand, disquieted manner.

The unicorn remembered the older man from earlier and how he had yelled and shoved. “I know I would not enjoy living like that. Why do you work for this Amarantha when I am sure you do not share her delight in this carnival. Can you not work magic elsewhere?”

If it were possible, Cassian looked even more uncomfortable with her bluntness. He grabbed the edge of his cloak and wrapped it around himself. “She feeds me and provides me with a place to sleep. The war was hard on many of us. I needed something to do, somewhere to go.”

The unicorn cocked her head to the side. The farther and farther she traveled from her lilac woods, the more she found she did not know about the world. “War? What is. . . _war_?”

Cassian stared back, and then began to laugh. “If only we could all live in such secluded lands as where innocent unicorns prosper. I envy you your ignorance.” He dropped his cloak, looked down at his wrists, and began polishing one of the small red gems. “I used to be a great warrior,” he said softly. “One of the best. Until King Hybern appeared and stole a prince from one of the other Courts. War broke out as war will when kings are angry and bored. We all rushed to volunteer to fight. And why wouldn't we? Hybern’s own kingdom was small, tiny, with no army to speak of. It was an easy win--or so we thought.”

He shook his head in disbelief before looking again at the unicorn. “Are you familiar with the Mother of All, my lady?” He did not wait for a response before continuing. “They say she created the entire world with a great cauldron. The cauldron is the beginning of everything and therefore many hold the idea of it sacred, though most consider the whole thing just a story, a myth. We never thought the cauldron actually existed.” Cassian dug his toe into the ground, drawing random lines into the dirt, and did not speak for several long breaths.

“Until Hybern rolled the damn thing out on the battlefield and took out half our warriors in a single blast.”

The unicorn could feel the waves of sadness and anger rolling off the Illyrian as thick as syrup, and she whickered in pain and sympathy.

Cassian cleared his throat. “We threw everything we had at him, but when we discovered he was using the cauldron to not only destroy but create. . .” Cassian tapped the red gem on his left wrist. It flared briefly before emitting a flickering red light and, after another moment, went out again completely. “His creatures were too much. I was lucky to leave with my life.”

He continued to stare for so long at the red gems that the unicorn laid her head down against the floor of her cage and briefly closed her eyes.

“Anyway,” he said somewhat loudly with a laugh, “you asked why I am here and that is why. I have just enough power left in my Siphons for parlor tricks.” To illustrate this, he pulled a small red ball, a children’s toy, from his pocket and began juggling it between his hands. As the ball arced in front of them, flying through the air from one hand to the next, another ball appeared, and then another, and yet another. The Siphons on his knees blinked sleepily until Cassian stopped, clutching seven multi-colored balls within his arms.

The unicorn gazed at Cassian sadly, wishing she had never even learned the word for sorrow let alone the bitter aftertaste it left in her mouth. “That is a very good trick, magician. I am only sorry I cannot give you your strength back. I fear one unicorn is not enough to counter the evil the cauldron has wrought.”

Cassian frowned as he took off his dark cloak and draped it over his arm. “I would be glad indeed if someone could fix my Siphons but I would give that all up if I could just once fly away from this dreary world.” The unicorn’s brow furrowed, confused, and he gave her a stiff smile. “You should rest. I’ll be back later when the others have gone to sleep so we can talk some more. In the meantime, I’ll try to find you the best of our hay.” He gave her a small nod and turned to leave.

As the magician strode off towards the other end of the caravan, the unicorn immediately saw and comprehended his cryptic words. Free from the confines of his cloak, giant membranous wings hung limp from his back. They were almost completely shredded, the talons pointing at awkward angles. It did not take a unicorn's eyes to see that he would never fly again. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

4.

  


The unicorn passed a nervous afternoon alternately pacing and trying unsuccessfully to rest in her cage. The grove in which their caravan sat was unusually quiet. Amarantha had ordered Keir out with the puca again before disappearing into her own wagon, and Cassian was left carrying out the rest of the chores before evening set in. He glanced at her every time he passed her cage with a rag or bucket but did not say a word or venture near lest Amarantha suddenly appear and grow suspicious. The unicorn did not know what Cassian had planned if indeed he had a plan at all. His indication that he would help in facilitating her escape was a noble gesture, but the charms around her cage were no match for her own magic. How could Cassian, lacking power as he did, hope to best Amarantha in her stead?

Tossing her dandelion soft mane, the unicorn snorted and began another round of pacing in her small rectangular cage. Every so often, small noises would issue from the other wagons, strange hissings and scrapings as of claws on metal, but she could not discover their sources, as all but hers remained covered. Soon enough, the sun began to set, its long dust-moted beams giving way to lengthy shadows, which made a quick meal in swallowing the crooked trees and brittle dead grass across the glade. The sun’s retreat seemed to function as a signal, for as soon as it had disappeared, Amarantha stepped down from her covered wagon, ruby lips smiling, eyes glittering with a keen sharpness. She had curled her red-gold hair and pulled it back in a partial twist, letting the rest cascade down her bare shoulders, and her new plum-dark dress draped over her curves like morning dew down an orchid leaf.

Keir returned soon after, carrying nothing but a frown and furrowed brows, and stomped around the backside of the wagon train in a desperate bid to avoid his mistress’ frosty gaze. Claw marks left deep gouges in the dirt around the puca’s cage, some new, most weathered and worn down from multiple skirmishes. Despite its inclination to deceive and devour, the puca was not a creature one should keep in a cage. The unicorn, hanging her head, sympathized.

“Lady Amarantha will be checking on her. . . possessions this evening.” Cassian’s low whisper as he appeared at her cage startled her into a nicker. “Once she is satisfied that all are well, she will go back into her trailer for the night. She does not spend much time with her creatures unless we are open to crowds,” he said grimly. “When she is in for the night, I shall try my best to help you escape.”

“I do not understand the meaning behind this,” the unicorn said to him, pointing her horn at the cages across the way. Under Amarantha’s direction, Keir was taking down the black tarps, allowing the cages to breathe freely for the first time that day. “What does she hope to accomplish by showcasing creatures to other fae? She seemed surprised to have caught me. What else has she managed to ensnare with her traps?”

“Look at the different cages and tell me what you see.” Cassian stepped aside and gestured to the wagons and their occupants, whose growls and moans grew increasingly louder as their coverings were removed.

The unicorn narrowed her eyes, starring hard across the clearing. The first wagon contained something vaguely resembling a fae but one covered from head to toe in dark scales, its arms ending in long black talons. Wide amber eyes blinked slowly from the shadows. A naga then. The second wagon was no less surprising. She had never seen a cockatrice with her own two eyes before, but she had once spent an amusing afternoon with a butterfly who was convinced it had just narrowly escaped being eaten by the rooster head before regaling her with an equally heart-stopping race against death by trampling from its two giant dragon claws. Another cage held a pacing manticore, yet another a droopy-looking dryad, and still another a snorting grootslang. Each cage beheld something even more alarming than the next. And yet, through all her observations and startling discoveries, the unicorn beheld a shimmer to the air, as if all of Lady Amarantha’s creatures of the night lived behind some sort of gauzy film.

“What kind of magic is at work here?” she asked angrily, stomping a white hoof. “What has she done to them? Why do they quiver and shiver so in the air?”

Cassian folded his arms and nodded. “Look again. Use your magic to see hers.”

Concentrating, the unicorn narrowed her eyes once again, pointing her horn at each creature in their turn. Her magic tore down Amarantha’s glamours quickly, the ease at which she accomplished her task just as shocking as what lay behind them.

“Why, what she calls a naga is merely a large snake!” The unicorn cried. “And she has everyone believing that tree sapling is a real dryad! These are illusions! Mirages! Why does your Lady Amarantha deceive her folk so?” That unicorn shook her head and pawed at the metal floor of her cage with her hoof. “Am I the only true creature here?”

Cassian glanced nervously to the end of the wagon train, where Keir was noticeably avoiding the last cage. “Unfortunately, no,” he answered, “though I'll not remove that one’s covering for all the magic in the world.” He took a deep breath, looked the unicorn in the eye, and lowered his voice. “And if you are smart, which I know you are, you will not waste your time on that creature either. The Lady Amarantha has caught a Bogge, a true one. The other things, the dryad-tree, they are replaceable, but she means to keep that monster. Just like she means to keep you.”

The unicorn gazed with wide eyes on the cage that housed the Bogge. Though covered with a dark, thick blanket, the unicorn could feel the evil dripping down the sides of the cage, could sense rather than hear the Bogge’s hateful and repulsive tirade.

_I will grind your bones between my claws; I will drink your marrow; I will feast on your flesh. I am what you fear; I am what you dread. Bring down my covering and look at me. Look at me._

The unicorn shivered down to her core, and it took all her willpower to finally tear her attention away from that malicious creature. “Oh, oh,” she moaned.

Cassian reached for the unicorn to pet, to soothe her, but dropped his hand at the last minute, as if afraid. “Yes,” he said shakily, “yes. I have tried to warn her about the consequences of caging a Bogge. She caught it unawares, as she did you, and means to keep it as her display’s finale.” Cassian pursed his lips and exhaled loudly through his nose. “She feeds off the crowd’s fear,” he said finally. “She scares them and takes their fear to feed what little power she has in hopes of enriching it and gaining more.” He glanced down at his red Siphons, which sat dully on his wrists and elbows. “I tried to tell her it wouldn’t work, but. . .” he trailed off, his mind lost to darker times, and the unicorn politely did not question him.

“Are you done now with my pet, magician?” Amarantha had slithered silently up behind them. She now ran a long purple nail down the side of Cassian’s cheek, and he jumped, his face red with shame. “Is it my imagination or is dinner not ready yet?”

“Not yet, my lady,” Cassian mumbled, shuffling his feet.

 Her lips curled upward, though the smile did not reach her eyes. “Then I suggest you get on with it.” As Cassian hurried away, he threw one last glance back at the unicorn, his cloak billowing out behind him. Amarantha grinned truly as she turned and surveyed all of her creatures, both real and reproduction. “How do you like my little menagerie?” she asked the unicorn with a grand gesture. “Won’t our crowds just gawk and stare in amazement at my ability to contain so much power and magic?”

The unicorn tried to avoid looking at the wagon of the Bogge. “I would not boast if I were you,” she said, breaking her vow to never speak to one who captured her. “Your death sits in that cage, and she hears you.”

Amarantha chuckled, holding her hand to her chest. “Oh, I am sure it would love to kill me, but at least I will die knowing that I once caught both a Bogge and the last unicorn in all of Prythian, while the Bogge will have to die knowing it was caught. So how’s that for immortality, hmm? You, on the other hand. . .” To the unicorn’s complete shock and dismay, Amarantha touched the tip of the unicorn’s horn, pushing it back slightly. “You were on the road hunting for your own death, and I know where it awaits you. I know him, that one, for I have been trying to capture him too.” She sighed dramatically. “My carnival for a Cauldron-born. Alas.”

The unicorn reared her head back, choosing to ignore the Fae’s histrionics upon the unexpected mention of the very monster she sought out. “Do you speak of Bryaxis?” She spoke in a hurry, her blood pumping. “Tell me if you do, and where he is, if you know. Tell me.”

Amarantha lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. “So you know his name? Then you must know Bryaxis hunts out of King Hybern’s lands. Well, you can rest easy, unicorn. He won’t get to you out here as long as you belong to me.”

 The unicorn’s heart raced. She needed to discover what had happened to the rest of her kind, and the only way to do so was to find Bryaxis. Somehow, this monster of King Hybern’s was the key. “If I hunt my own death, then it is at my choosing. You know me; you have said I am the last. Keep your poor shadows and illusions if you will--I’ll not ruin your secrets--but let me go. And--” though the unicorn knew in her blood that any and every end to this story would lead to tragedy, she felt compelled to add, “let the Bogge go. I cannot see it caged. It is real, like me. We are both creatures of true magic. Let us both go!”

Amarantha cackled, the shrill sound reaching in, clutching at the unicorn’s core until the hair on her back stood on end. “Being the last of your kind has rendered you delusional, my poor darling. You are too used to freedom, but freedom has a price, and its name is Bryaxis. You are safer here where he cannot get to you. You should thank me for protecting you.”

 The unicorn took a deep breath and looked again at the wagon in which the Bogge was hidden. She could hear it in her head, every word a raking claw across her mind.

_I will kill you if you set me free. Set me free._

“I am safe here as much as you are safe from that creature, which is to say not at all.” The unicorn tossed her mane and pawed at the ground. “This minute your magic fades, so will you.”

 Amarantha’s eyes hardened, and she pressed her lips firmly together. “Do you prophesy, too, unicorn? Then see this.”  She held out her hand, sweeping her long purple nails out across the horizon “You in my carnival, and I gaining ever more magic and power from my people. _Forever_.” She closed her hand into a fist and cocked her head to the side. “I don’t need to see that to know it will come true.” A glow of light brought the unicorn’s attention to the lock on the small side door. “Just a bit of added reinforcement.” She looked down at the unicorn, her ruby lips stretching across her face almost unnaturally so, in a twisted perversion of a smile. “Enjoy your evening.”

 The unicorn hung her head, and shivered as Amarantha cackled once more, the echoes of her laughter sounding across the entire clearing. Not even the sight of the female casually avoiding the Bogge’s cage could lift the unicorn’s spirits, for now her entire escape would depend on Cassian, and how was that ever going to happen without magic?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first piece of dialogue from the Bogge is a slightly modified piece from ACOTAR, while the second line is from The Last Unicorn.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

 

As soon as Keir and the Lady Amarantha had gone to bed and the purple gloom of night settled over their clearing, Cassian snuck back to the unicorn’s cage. It was perhaps a bit too soon after the others had closed their caravan doors for the unicorn’s comfort, but Cassian smiled at her in a show of confidence.

“I am sorry it took me so long,” he told her in a rushed whisper at the edge of her cage, “but I am with you now. I was able to practice a bit earlier. I---I think I can feel my Siphons growing stronger.” The unicorn said nothing as she noted all seven of his Siphons were currently empty. “I think--I _know_ , if we work our magic together, you can be freed.”

The unicorn shook her head. “There has never been a spell on me before. There was never a world in which I was not known.”

Cassian clutched the bars of her cage and sighed, leaning his forehead against the cold metal. “I know how you feel. It’s very rare for someone to be taken for what they truly are.”

“And you offer to help me? Out of your own good will?” The unicorn examined him through her large violet eyes, pools of sorrow and longing whose depths Cassian could not fathom even if he had all of eternity to do so.

“Well, there is some selfishness in it, I suppose,” he said with a laugh and shake of his head. “If I can free a unicorn, if I can prove my magic still works even just a bit, then perhaps. . . “ He didn’t need to finish his sentence as the unicorn noticed the shadows of his shredded wings upon the ground in the moonlight.

The unicorn hung her head. “I wish I had your courage and certainty, magician. But try away, if you must.” She motioned towards the lock and took a step back.

Cassian blinked. When he realized the unicorn did not want to help---or perhaps did not think she could--he nodded his head and rubbed his hands together. “Right, well, I’ll try and if I need you, you can step in.” Cassian rubbed his hands together again, staring intently at the lock for so long that the unicorn wondered if it was not out of nervousness but indeed the method of his magic. But then he spoke again, a series of low mutterings, words the unicorn did not understand though she was older than him by far.

 _"Rask montesere vallahan velaris. Rask montesere vallahan velaris_ ” he repeated. To the unicorn’s surprise, the red Siphons on his wrists began to glow, a faint blush of rose at first, then growing to a great glaring garnet. “ _Rask montesere vallahan velaris. Adriata clythia nostrus nuan_.”

The lock on her cage began to glow then, not from the light of Cassian’s magic but as if lit by a fire within. The unicorn tossed her mane nervously and pawed at the ground as the very air around her became charged with light and power and thick currents of magic. Across from her, Cassian kept up his chant. “ _Rask montesere vallahan velaris. Adriata clythia nostrus nuan_. _Rask montesere vall_ \--ahh!”

All at once, her cage erupted in a blinding flash of flaming light that sent Cassian flying backwards across the clearing.

Directly onto the cage of the Bogge.

There was a split second of pure silence, born from the fear of discovery and icy coldness of realization, before the clearing erupted into pandemonium

The Bogge, awakened from the force of Cassian propelled against its cage, began to squawk behind its curtain. “Set me free! Set me free!” Its voice, a discordant shriek that raked her mind and sent shivers through her very soul, screeched and howled in anguish and rage, even more tormented than it had been when it spoke to her via its mind. Across the clearing, lights came on in both Amarantha’s and Keir’s covered wagons followed by a scream of rage from the the Lady’s, no doubt due to her annoyance at being awoken. Meanwhile, Cassian rushed back to the unicorn’s cage upon seeing where he had landed, the Bogge continuing its unholy moaning throughout the glade.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said hurriedly. “I thought that would work, but we must get you out now or else--”

“What is all that racket and why have you woken me up?” Amarantha screamed as she slammed open her door. One look around the clearing told her everything she needed to know: the Bogge rocking its cage back and forth, its covering threatening to fall off, and Cassian with his hands on the lock to the unicorn’s cage. Her eyes slightly widened and her nostrils flared as she stared Cassian down from atop the steps of her wagon.

“Hurry, magician, try again!” the unicorn urged him.

But Cassian had been struck motionless by the appearance of his mistress. By himself, he may have believed he had enough power to defeat her magic, but in her presence, conscious of his now-dull Siphons and tattered wings, he could not move.

They would have to move, and fast. What they needed was a distraction. As Amarantha slowly stepped down from her wagon, approaching them at a calm and almost serene pace, no doubt meant to intimidate them, the unicorn glanced widely around the clearing. The Bogge was still rocking in its cage, possibly attempting to overturn itself in hopes of breaking the lock. Blood thrummed through the unicorn’s head as she whickered nervously. An idea had come to her but she was not sure she could do it, neither through magic nor will. But it would provide a much needed distraction while she and Cassian attempted an escape of their own.

As if sensing her thoughts, the Bogge once again spoke mind to mind with the unicorn. _Release me_ , it hissed. _Set me free. We are brethren, you and I--set me free!_

 _"I--I don’t know if I can_ ,” she thought. Her attention now focused on the Bogge, she could feel its razor-sharp claws digging in her mind, one by one. She tried to shake them off, tried to call out to Cassian, but she found her voice no longer worked. Perhaps if she helped the Bogge, the Bogge would help them in return. . .

_You won’t know unless you set me free._

The Bogge’s laughter sent shivers down her body as she whinnied and kicked in fear. She had never had cause to be afraid before, and she was afraid now. But she knew as much as the rest of them that no creature should be bound to a cage, no matter how horrible, and this might be the only way for her to escape. Before she could talk herself out of her mad decision, the unicorn gasped and a bolt of magic shot from her horn, aiming straight for the lock on the Bogge’s cage.

For the second time in as many minutes, a shroud of silence settled over the clearing as the company watched the lock shatter into a thousand pieces while the cage door slowly swung open without a single creak. From the looks on everyone’s faces, it wasn’t just the unicorn who could hear the creature hiding inside begin to laugh.

“What have you done?!” Amarantha shrieked.

A very large and very dark blur rushed out of the cage much faster than the unicorn would have guessed, its path headed right for Amarantha. Keir ran back into his wagon and slammed his door--as if a wall of wood could protect him from whatever apparition the Bogge chose to materialize as when it attacked--while Amarantha raised her hands, readying whatever power she had in defense against the monster.

She struck just before the Bogge did. A blast of raw power lit the clearing, hurling the Bogge back into its cage in an explosion of metal and wood.

“I caught you once,” she taunted it with a smile. “I’ll just catch you again.”

_Do try. I love playing with my food before I eat. And I am hungry._

And then the Bogge struck--before Amarantha had even time to raise her hand again.

The creature, even larger now than when it had gone down, burst from the debris and landed almost on top of the Fae. A giant paw with claws as long as the unicorn’s horn rose upward before coming down with such force that the clearing echoed with the sound of rending flesh. The unicorn did not know if the dark hairy creature currently destroying the Lady Amarantha was of her creation, the Lady’s, or someone else’s as currently everyone’s attention was focused on the being. And then, with a loud crack of some bone being split apart, Amarantha’s screaming stopped. The clearing was utterly silent save for the crunching and slobbering of the creature as it devoured what was left of her.

The unicorn shook her head. If she and Cassian did not move now--and even he was still struck dumb by the sight of the Bogge at Amarantha’s throat--they would most likely be next to face its wrath. She had no doubt it would not remember her as its lust for blood took control.

“Now, magician!” the unicorn managed, though it hurt to speak, hurt to move after such great magic as she had just performed.

The unicorn pressed her horn against the backside of the lock, a white glow encircling her body as what little magic she had left coursed through her. Unicorn lore spoke of healing magic and healing magic only. She had not been sure if she could work against the charms Amarantha had placed on her cage, but she had freed the Bogge. In truth, she had not had much cause to use magic at all in her little wood of lilac, so perhaps there was more to magic, more to her, than she realized. She focused on that nerve, that tiny bit of fearlessness and breathed life into it, pushing and goading her magic to grow and work as hard as possible. From the other side, Cassian grunted in concentration as his Siphons first flickered, then gleamed crimson again in the shadow of the magicked lock.

If the unicorn had been able to bend her horn to her will and convince it to work against its true purpose, if Cassian’s Siphons sensed the urgency of the situation and gave one final burst of power in order to assist their master, if their two magics were somehow working together in harmony, the unicorn did not know the answer, except that their magic worked and the lock finally opened with a loud click. Cassian stared at his hands in shock as the door of her cage swung free, and the unicorn once again felt the delicious shiver of freedom flow over her.

Keir gave a shout across the way as the Bogge made short work of destroying his wagon, and the noise shook Cassian from his stupor.  

“Let’s go!” He turned, preparing to run, but the unicorn grabbed the edge of his cloak with her teeth.

“No,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Do not run. Do not look back and do not run. You must never run from a Bogge. It attracts their attention. Just as you must not acknowledge a Bogge, you must not do anything that allows them to acknowledge you. You must _never_ run from a Bogge. Walk slowly, and pretend to be thinking of something else,” she suggested. “Quietly hum a song, say a poem, do your tricks, but walk slowly and it may not follow.” 

The two slowed their pace to a walk, ever conscious of the sounds of screaming behind them that all too soon became sounds of rending and scratching, echoes of crunching and gnawing and snapping. Finally, far longer than the unicorn would have like--and Cassian too by the looks of his pale face and sweaty brow--the sounds from the carnival diminished, and they could hear the sounds of the forest once again. Large barn owls hooted mournfully through the towering trees, in search of love and a midnight snack. Nearby, a snake moved over wet leaves, its slithering an echo of flames crackling in a warm hearth.

“I hated working for her,” Cassian said suddenly. “But I would not wish for that death on anyone.”

The unicorn bumped her head against his side in sympathy. “She chose her death long ago when she captured that Bogge.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Do you not regret what happened?”

If the unicorn could have shrugged, she would have. “Unicorns can never regret. I can feel, and have felt, sorrow, but not regret.”

Cassian bit his lower lip, considering this new fact, before speaking again. “Where will you go now?”

That question had been plaguing the unicorn for some time. Something Cassian had said to her in his tale of war had pricked her consciousness, pushing and prodding, refusing to let go and fly away. “I am looking for others like me,” she said, “and I think I must find this creature named Bryaxis. The puca lured me in by my desire to find my kin and mentioned such a beast. I have come to believe he must belong to your King Hybern and so mean to find him.”

“King Hybern?” Cassian’s eyebrows shot up, and he ran his hands through his shoulder length dark hair. “That will be a difficult journey if you mean to make it, though I highly advise against it. King Hybern lives far off in the mountains at the edge of the ocean. Why do you think he has-- _oh_.” Cassian was silent, and the unicorn knew he had come to the same conclusion she had. The king’s cauldron birthed many foul creatures during the war, and only a monster who would hunt and kill unicorns could originate from such a place.

“I am sorry, but I must go,” she said quietly. “But I would reward you before you leave me for helping me escape.”

Cassian sighed and rubbed his chin. It was no small thing to be offered a reward from a unicorn. He closed his eyes for a brief second before looking down at her with a sad smile. “Take me with you,” he said. “Where you are going now, few will mean you anything but evil, and a friendly heart, however foolish, may be as welcome as water one day. Take me with you, for laughs, for luck, for the unknown. Take me with you,” he pleaded.

That surprised the unicorn, and she did not surprise so easily. “I will gladly take the company if you ask this in earnest, though as you say, it will be a hard journey, and one, as you suggest, that is not likely to end in smiles. I wish you would ask for some other reward, kind sir.”

Cassian tapped the Siphon under his collarbone, which sat dull and un-illuminated on his chest. “I thought about it, but you cannot grant me what I truly want.”

The unicorn hung her head. “No, I am sorry. I have magic and a strange and terrific kind it is, but I do not have the kind that would reanimate an Illyrian’s Siphons for good.” She did not even mention his tattered wings for she did not think she could fix those either, and that was a great sorrow to the unicorn whose horn was meant for healing.

After a moment’s silence between the two of them, the unicorn nodded. “I shall readily accept your company, magician, and I hope you continue to perform your tricks while we travel. Indeed, if you choose to indulge me, I would love to observe one now, if only to banish the heartache from our minds.”

She was rewarded with a smile. “My lady.” Cassian bowed and, as the two of them began their journey in earnest, pulled a red ball from his pocket.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you recognize the words of Cassian's spell? ;)


	6. Chapter 6

6.  
  
  


The unicorn and Illyrian magician spent many long days and nights traveling the hard and dusty roads of Prythian, searching for the creature called Bryaxis. They strolled past small villages with aged and careworn wooden cottages; they ambled by large cities with considerable stone white mansions; they drifted near the fine courts of their country with their sweeping palaces and long broad gardens. 

They would often stop in places where Cassian thought he might be able to entertain the populace with his meager collection of tricks, though the unicorn would stay out of sight in the nearby woods. Though he never attracted huge crowds--and they found that the larger the town, the smaller the crowds--he was often rewarded with a few small coins or loaves of bread, which he shared with the unicorn when he came back to her hiding place. 

The traveling companions were an odd mix, an Illyrian and a unicorn, but they grew comfortable in each other’s often silent presence. Sometimes they’d go hours without needing to speak to each other, and one day, it was not until dusk that the unicorn chose to voice her thoughts out loud.

“Tell me,” the unicorn said, her voice like the tinkling of bells, delicate and sparkling and all the more beautiful for its rarity. “Tell me all you know of King Hybern.” She had stopped to stare at the palace of High Lord of the Day Court, which sat in the distance up against the edge of a large mountain range.

Cassian shrugged. “There is not much to tell as there is not much known. He calls himself king though he has no official court, and while some are convinced he must be Fae, others theorize he is human.”

“A human?” The unicorn cocked her head to the side, remembering that the magician had told her the war he fought in was almost five hundred years ago. “I have never met a human. Can they truly live that long?”

“No, they cannot.” Cassian was silent for some time, staring across the vast fields and valleys at the mountain range so large that it almost obscured the clouds themselves. “There are some that say that he lives by the magic of the Cauldron, that for every soul thrust into that deep black well, he gains another year of life.”

Again, the unicorn thought of that war set over five hundred years ago, and Cassian looked at her with a grim cast to his face. “He was an old man then, too,” he said quietly, answering her unspoken question.

They began to move on then, past the Day Court and its numerous libraries, heading east as if they could outrace the setting sun and the world’s ever-growing shadows. They came to a river then, though it was small and could no more be called a river than Cassian could be called a true magician. But it babbled and gurgled prettily and quickly enough that the two travelers were obliged to watch their steps as they passed through it, careful of slippery stones and water-wraiths, before reaching the other side.

Despite the pressing darkness, the unicorn forced herself to continue her questioning of the magician. “What can you tell me about Bryaxis? What is there to know about this creature who hunts my kind?” If she could not understand Hybern and his creature Bryaxis, then how could she ever hope to save her fellow unicorns?

She felt more than saw the Illyrian shrug. “I suppose I know no more than you do,” he answered with a resigned sigh. “They say he is made of nightmares, a ghost, and was never truly alive at all. Some have seen the form of a bull, some say it has no form. I’ve even heard that it can change forms indiscriminately.  I've heard that Bryaxis protects Hybern or else that he keeps him a prisoner in his own castle. There are so many stories.”  Cassian sighed as he picked his way over the darkening dirt-worn path. “ But I do know that if that monster was created from his Cauldron, then we shall need a lot of luck on our side if we hope to rescue your family. Careful now, watch the branches.”

They had finally come to the side of the forest they had spotted in the distance, having decided previously to spend as much time away from public roads as possible if only for the unicorn’s protection. “I’ll take first watch,” he told her, gesturing to a large bush in which she could hide and rest for the night. Though he did not need to, he added, “Take care to stay quiet. We are approaching the edge of the Night Court, and while I am an Illyrian, I do not believe the clans that roam these borders will take kindly to us. They are very territorial and as of late, rumors say they have been warring with roving outlaws in the area.”

“Outlaws, bandits, soldiers,” said a dark raspy voice. “Who cares what we are as long as you don’t try anything funny and come quietly with us.”

Cassian stiffened, feeling the sharp point of some sort of dagger or sword in his back. He was only glad that the unicorn could not be seen from her hiding place and hoped that she wouldn’t try anything and therefore risk her own precious life in the process. “All right,” he said slowly, raising his hands above his head. “And where might you be taking me?”

He heard a deep chuckle, this time from just behind his left shoulder. That meant there was more than one of them. The dark beneath the trees and the weapon at his back prevented him from seeing anything of his assailants and he could only hope to keep him talking in order to discover more. He was still a practiced fighter, but without knowing how many he faced, there was always the chance of being taken by surprise--and he cursed himself thoroughly for having been taken by surprise just then.

Unfortunately, the men were no longer interested in talking. A hard thunk to the head, and Cassian knew no more.

 

***

 

When Cassian awoke, to blurry eyes and a pounding headache, he found himself lying on the back of a horse, trussed up like a goat meant for the pot. And indeed, there was a large cookpot situated in a blazing fire in the middle of a cozy clearing surrounded by several miserable looking males. One of them was gingerly tasting the grey liquid from inside the pot. 

“Pleh!” He spit his mouthful back out on the ground, nearly hitting his friend. “Rat soup! Always rat soup!”

His friend shook his head wearily. “The least she could do is use a different rat. The third night, anyway.”

A hand grabbed at the ropes which had been used to tie Cassian’s hands behind his back before he could hear more of their illuminating conversation, and pulled him roughly off the horse. Cassian fell to the ground in a heap, a few of the nearby Fae chuckling to themselves behind their steins of beer.

“Am I to know why I've been kidnapped, or do you just plan rummaging through my pockets before leaving me for dead?”

A hard boot kicked him over onto his back, and Cassian found himself looking up into a very large and powerfully built Fae male with dark hair and even darker eyes. “Aye, we could do that,” the male said with a smile. “But a Fae in possession of not one but seven Siphons in his arsenal? Well, our lord would like to meet you first.” Cassian remembered now holding his hands in the air, and cursed himself again for allowing them to see the ruby stones.

The Fae crossed his arms and smiled. " _T_ _ hen _ we’ll most likely leave you for dead.”

The magician set his mouth in a grim line. As long as he could keep up the bluff that his Siphons still worked, and worked properly, then perhaps he might escape with his life. Anything less than that. . . he gulped, not wanting to consider the odds. A few men he could fight. An entire band of men was something different altogether--especially with powerless Siphons and shredded wings.

“Most likely,” a loud voice boomed across the clearing. “But first, we’ll talk. Hart, untie our new friend. This is no way to treat company.”

Cassian was kicked back over onto his stomach before he could get a look at who he could only guess was the leader of this group. His bindings were cut, and the male named Hart yanked him to his feet, shoving him towards the campfire.

There, sitting in the only chair amongst the entire clearing, sat a young-looking male, roughly Cassian’s own age if he were to hazard a guess, with blonde hair that reached his shoulders and green eyes that sparkled in the firelight. His posture was relaxed but alert; his green tunic and brown pants were just as dusty and careworn as those of his men but the stitching and lack of holes compared to the others bespoke overall better care and material. This male was wealthy--or had been, once. A leather baldric lay across his chest, filled with small daggers whose hilts had been carved with flowering vines. Each one was markedly better than the dull steel blades of his men, and judging by the steady gaze he levelled at Cassian, the Illyrian was willing to bet he knew how to use them.

“Seven Siphons,” the blonde Fae mused to himself. “I’ve had the occasion to meet a few warriors who use those, but only once have I come in contact with someone owning more than one or two. Tell me,” and here the blonde male leaned forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees, “who did you steal them from?”

Cassian should have been insulted, but he could only laugh. “No wonder you’re not scared of me. If you knew the extent of my power and how I came by these Siphons, you and your troop would not be here right now.”

He heard the striking of metal against metal as at least two Fae behind me drew their swords.

The camp’s leader chuckled and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Come, come, I meant no harm. I merely desire stories from long ago to amuse us as we sit fireside and enjoy our meal.” He gestured to a fallen log opposite him, the daggers in his baldric highlighted from the flames in the fire, and Cassian was shoved from behind toward his seat.

As he sat down on the log, he pushed the hood back off his head, the light of the fire illuminating his face. The blonde male’s eyes widened upon seeing his curved ears. "So not just a magician," the leader of the band murmured.

Cassian squared his shoulders and held his head up high. "I'm not ashamed of what I am."

"Then why do you hide it so?" Another voice asked. A shadow detached itself from a large tree several paces behind where the lead male sat, and Cassian was surprised to see there was a female in this camp. "Are you here to pillage our court? You're more than welcome to try." With a derisive laugh, she spread her arms wide to indicate the threadbare tents and rusted weapons. 

"Nesta, please. He is a traveler, just like us. We shall treat him civilly." But his tone and wary green eyes--along with the two warriors who now joined his side--highlighted his unspoken threat.  _ As long as he is civil to us.  _

But this Nesta would not let the newcomer go so easily. As she circled the campfire, stepping into its light, Cassian was able to get a better look at her. She was tall and thin, and approached him cautiously, each step careful and precise. Even if he hadn't noticed the pointy ears half-hidden by a braided crown of light brown hair, the way she moved alone was enough to indicate that she too was High Fae. 

"Did you fight in the war?" she asked. Cassian blinked. There weren't many left who found good conversation in that topic.  As she cocked her head to the side, awaiting his answer, a thought, a single word, suddenly struck him: predator. That's what she was, that's how she moved, this Nesta, with an inferno in her eyes not, as he supposed, from the reflection of the fire before them, but from a blaze lit from within. That drab brown dress and grubby apron were just a facade. Cassian vaguely wondered if the rest of the group could even fathom the mighty weapon currently hiding in their midst, cooking their dinner. 

"I did," he managed, his throat gone dry. 

She smirked and sat down on a log between two seated males. Reaching for the spoon in the large pot over the fire, she began to stir their meal. 

"What's so funny?" he asked, adjusting his cloak. What she might say if she saw his wings, he did not care to find out.

Nesta shrugged, keeping her gaze focused on her work. "I heard that Illyrians only fought because the price was right."

Cassian shrugged in return. She was partially correct, however much that bothered him. "Sometimes we fight just to fight." 

"Illyrians will do anything for money," she said sneering at the soup.

He grinned and folded his arms across his chest. “I won’t deny that the Night Court paid very well for my services." 

"You fought in Rhysand's army?" That, he was pleased to see, caught her by surprise. Somehow, she didn’t seem like the type who was surprised by much anymore. 

"Do  _ not _ say his name!" The group's leader, who had been half-heartedly listening to them in a disinterested, almost bored manner, suddenly shot to his feet. "We do not speak of  _ him _ in my Court."

The men all around sat up straighter in their seats, stepped forward from slouching against the trees, some of them going so far as to withdraw their swords again, but Nesta merely clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You weren't the only one who lost something in that war, Tamlin. Get over yourself."

Cassian would've laughed at her gall had the male's name not surprised him so. "Tamlin? You mean to tell me that  _ you _ are the High Lord of the Spring Court?” Cassian looked around again at the state of the camp: the ragged clothes, the rusty swords hanging from belts by mere threads, the soup boiling in the cookpot that was more water than anything else. “This-- _ this _ is your Court?"

 

***


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly longer than the others, but I hope it was worth the wait. :)

 

"This," the blonde lord snarled, throwing his arms out in a wide sweeping gesture, "is what's left of my Court after that--that _bastard_ and his mate ruined me, turned my people against me in their quest to do whatever they could to win that war. And ever since. . .”

Cassian could only imagine what Tamlin had gone through once the war had ended. Hadn’t he himself gone from powerful Illyrian warrior, master of an impressive seven Siphons to wingless lackey in a cheap traveling carnival, earning his food from performing cheap parlor tricks? He had spent the last five hundred years wondering how Hybern had won the war, speculating on how he had obtained that Cauldron, and of course, meditating on how he might possibly regain the use of his wings and power.

But despite all he had lost, despite the reduced state of his circumstances, Cassian had never once blamed Rhysand for it. He had treated the Illyrians well for hired soldiers, like they were members of his own Court, which is more than Cassian could say about anyone else in his time on that land. But they had still lost. Against Hybern and his trickery, they had all been defeated, suffering the same losses in life, land, and money. They were all losers in the end, but looking at Tamlin and witnessing the pitiful remains of the Spring Court proved that not everyone had lost equally.

One moment, Cassian had been watching Tamlin pace back and forth in front of the fire, and the next moment, Tamlin was suddenly on top of him, clutching him by the neck of his cloak. Glancing nervously downward, Cassian noticed that each of the High Lord’s fingers had sharpened into claws, piercing straight through the fabric of the Illyrian’s cloak.

“Did you really fight under Rhysand in the war? Tell me the truth.” Tamlin’s voice was a guttural whisper, almost calm, but Cassian wasn’t deluded into thinking any answer would would ease this male’s demeanor, not with several knife-like claws resting directly over his heart.

Wondering what answer would satisfy Tamlin, Cassian looked to the side, looked up, looked down, looked all over as if the answer could be found hovering around him in the thin air. And then suddenly--it was. In a manner of speaking. When Cassian glanced down, he noticed that his Siphons had inexplicably started to flicker. They had remained dull and dormant for most of the journey after he and the unicorn had left the Lady Amarantha’s camp. Why were they turning on now? What did this mean? Had the others noticed?

Cassian took a deep breath, aware of Tamlin’s weight on his chest, the claws ready to pierce through his heart, and made himself look into the High Lord’s eyes. Whether it was from the magic slowly returning to his Siphons or just the calm that precedes one’s impending death, he did not know, but he felt the words bubbling up from within, found he knew the words that Tamlin most wanted to hear before he even understood what they meant.

“I know where Rhysand is. He’s nearby. I can bring him to you.”

Cassian wasn’t sure what made him say it that way--”bring him to you” instead of the other way around-- but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Tamlin backed off and Cassian’s heart began to beat somewhere in the range of normal again.

“Did I not tell you all that our beloved friend was nearby?” Tamlin called out to his men.

“He was already insufferable,” Nesta muttered, approaching Cassian, having stood up when Tamlin pounced on him. “Now you’ve really done it.” She crossed her arms and watched with a bitter expression as the High Lord of the Spring Court gathered his men, issuing orders. After a moment, she turned back to Cassian and peered at him suspiciously. “How are you going to do it anyway? Are you a spy? How do you really know where Rhysand is?”

Cassian stood up from where Tamlin had thrown him over his log and brushed himself off. He had no idea where Rhysand was--he had assumed the High Lord was back in his own Court--and he had absolutely no idea how he would suddenly summon him here. But the magic from his Siphons was working its way through his body, filling him with a sense of calm, a sense of confidence. He felt certain that something was going to happen, but whether he would actually summon Rhysand or die by Tamlin’s hand, he had no idea, except that he knew he had to trust his magic.

“I don’t know Lord Rhysand’s exact location,” he said slowly, turning to Nesta, “but my magic can find him. I’m--I’m sure of it.”

“Then let’s get on with it.” Tamlin came up behind him and draped his arm around the Illyrian’s shoulder, leaning, Cassian thought, just a little too hard on him. “I have much to discuss with our friend from the Night Court and little patience left in which to accomplish it.” He pushed himself off of Cassian and strode back to his chair by the fire.

Cassian turned, following Tamlin with his eyes, and saw the entire Spring Court--or what was left of it--staring at him. Some of the soldiers sat with their arms crossed, looking bored, as if this were some kind of stunt their High Lord pulled all the time. Others had gone back to polishing their swords and daggers, eyeing him with a kind of hungry intensity so fierce it made Cassian stumble back a step. Regardless of whether or not Rhysand actually showed up, those hard looks told him, their blades would be seeking blood that night.

Cassian took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. Trust the magic, he told himself. His power had been greatly diminished after the war, it was true, but hadn’t it come through for him when it counted? When he saved the unicorn?

He rubbed his hands together and held them out, palms open, in front of him. _Magic_ _, do as you will,_ he prayed silently.

For a while, nothing happened. Cassian kept his gaze on the trees before him, willing the shadows of the gnarled branches to twist and turn themselves into the familiar shape of the Night Court’s High Lord, for the sounds of the forest creatures to warp themselves into the sounds of footsteps. But nothing happened.

“I do not suffer liars,” Tamlin’s voice called out from behind. A few of his men made jeering noises in agreement.

“Magic, do as you will,” he whispered, gritting his teeth. “Magic, do as you will.” The Siphons on his wrists, which had been flickering all the while, suddenly stopped fading in and out and flared into life, a bright cherry red shining from his hands, reflecting and illuminating the dark of the forest before him. Something clicked, then, inside of him, and he felt, rather than saw, the rest of the Siphons awaken.

Something was happening. Cassian continued to hold his arms out in front of him, chanting all the while, despite the ache that was developing in his shoulders, despite the sweat slipping down his back between his folded wings. He closed his eyes. _Magic, do as you will_.

It was Nesta who finally broke the silence. “Look! Oh, look!” She gasped in wonder.

The jeers from the crowd turned into cries of astonishment, but still Cassian kept his eyes closed, letting the magic flow through him, though in truth, he did not think he could stop now if he wanted to.

“Is that—it is!” cried another voice behind him. “And there, beside him!”

All around the clearing, unintelligible mutterings crystallized into awed murmurings that Cassian could hardly fail to understand. “The High Lady,” they whispered to each other. “The High Lady walks beside him.”

His curiosity finally won out—what, exactly, had his magic done?—and Cassian opened his eyes.

There, across the clearing, just discernible behind the dark trees, marched several tall figures. They wore rich and elaborate outfits that sparkled in the moonlight filtering through the leaves, and the familiar dark shapes that sat against the back of the leader could be none other than Illyrian wings.

Cassian had done it. He wasn’t sure how, especially given his trouble with simple conjuring, but somehow, he had done it. He had called Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, to the forest.

And the men behind him were right. There, walking at Rhysand’s right hand, was Feyre, his mate and only the High Lady in the land. But it was not just the two of them he had called, he noticed, as another figure and then another stepped behind the High Lord, passing through the forest.

There, directly behind Rhys, was his cousin, the great Morrigan. Her long golden hair shimmered in the moonlight and her signature red dress dragged behind her through the sticks and leaves of the forest floor, though she did not seem to notice. Soon, another member of the court appeared: Amren, Rhys’ second in command. She was the shortest in the procession, though undoubtedly the scariest, and Cassian could not help but shrink her from sharp gaze as her narrowed eyes swept left and right over the forest around her. Other Fae were scattered here and there amongst the Night Court denizens, their shadows nearly blending in with the trees themselves. But no shadows stood out more than those belonging to Azriel, the Night Court’s Spy Master. His shadows swirled around him, so dark they seemed to eat up the very night itself, and Cassian wondered what their whispers spoke of and if they had any good to say at all.

“Rhysand!” Tamlin’s booming voice rang throughout the clearing. “I have great cause to speak with you.”

But neither Rhysand nor the rest of the court stopped. They had to have heard him; Cassian was sure all of Prythian had heard Tamlin’s roaring. But the Night Court Faes continued their procession through the trees with hardly a glance to spare at their group.

Cassian frowned. Something about the way the stars glinted off of Feyre’s gem-encrusted gown. Was the fabric truly covered in a thousand tiny diamonds, or were those sparkles the eyes of the animals hiding in the undergrowth beyond? And the train on Mor’s dress, long and gliding, remained bright and clean. Why did it not pick up any detritus from the forest floor?

“Rhysand!” Tamlin shouted again. “Do not ignore me!” He began to stalk towards the High Lord of the Night Court, and Cassian hesitated, wondering whether he should voice his suspicions. If he spoke now, he risked the wrath of the Spring Court, but if he did not speak up, he risked making an even greater fool of Tamlin.

Rhysand and the others had nearly disappeared from view, but it was not until Tamlin removed a small dagger from his baldric that Cassian started. “No! There’s something I should tell you--”

Tamlin waved at him dismissively over his shoulder, not stopping his long strides. “Yes, yes,” he said quickly, “the Spring Court will reward you handsomely for your service.” He raised his dagger into the air. “Let’s go!” he called to the soldiers who had begun to follow their High Lord. “We have much to discuss with the Night Court.” Laughter, jeers, and few leftover hallowed whispers followed the High Lord as the remains of the Spring Court disappeared into the forest after Rhysand’s procession, and soon all--Spring Court and Night Court--were gone from view.

Finding himself suddenly alone, Cassian wasted no time in getting out of that clearing. He wasn’t entirely sure where the unicorn had hid herself, but he hoped that, now free of the Spring Court’s clutches, she would reveal herself in some way.

Stepping gingerly though the dark, weaving his way past the tall skeleton-like trees, it wasn’t long before a small light just ahead caught his attention. Peering closely, he thought he heard the glimmering light speak. “Magician?” it whispered. It was the unicorn, her horn emitting a small glow, just enough to catch his attention from her hiding place in a large thicket.

Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you all right? Were you watching? Did--did you see what I made?” He couldn’t help but feel a small measure of pride in however brief that burst of magic had been.

“Yes,” the unicorn nodded solemnly, the glow diminishing from her horn, “it was true magic.”

“Yes. It’s gone now,” he said, staring down at the dull Siphons on his wrists, “but I had it. Or it had me, I’m not entirely certain.” He shook his head, trying to clear the muddled thoughts that swirled within. “We should find a place to rest for the night, but not here. We should go--”

Just then, a twig snapped behind them.

“He’s going to be furious when he learns those were just illusions,” said Nesta, appearing as if from out of nowhere. “You’re lucky he’s stubborn for he will--”  Nesta stopped in her tracks, and though the unicorn jumped behind a nearby cluster of trees, it was too late. Nesta gasped and stumbled forward, her movements jerky and stilted in shock. “No! Can it be?” She reached out her arm towards where the unicorn was hiding, and Cassian moved protectively in front of the trees even though Nesta was still too far away to do anything.

And, indeed, she seemed inclined not to move any closer, as if out of fear or disbelief. “Where have you been?” She whispered, falling to her knees. A teardrop rolled its way down her cheek followed closely by another. “Where have you been? Damn you!” She shouted suddenly. “Damn you, where have you been?”

Cassian stepped forward. Though confused, he’d had enough, and it was pointless to pretend the unicorn did not exist now. “Stop yelling at her!”

The unicorn stepped slowly from around her trees and delicately approached the now openly weeping Nesta Archeron. “I am here now.”

Nesta laughed through her tears and attempted to wipe her cheeks with the edge of her skirt. “Oh, you are, are you? Where were you five hundred years ago? One hundred years ago? Where were you when I was young and new?" Nesta clung to the neck of the unicorn, who--to Cassian’s surprise--knelt before her on the ground. "Where were you when I was lost?” Nesta murmured into the unicorn’s mane. “How dare you come to me when I am like this?"

Cassian watched this scene with increasing confusion. “So you do recognize her then?”

Nesta gave a short bark of a laugh. She was gripping her wrinkled skirt tight in one hand while gently running her other hand through the unicorn’s silky mane. “If you had been waiting to see another unicorn as long as I have, you would recognize one too.”

The word “another” was not lost on Cassian. He cocked his head to the side, waiting to judge her reaction. “She is the last, you know.”

Another sharp laugh as Nesta pushed herself to her feet, Cassian noting that she kept one hand on the unicorn at all times as if afraid the creature would disappear if she let go. “It would be the last unicorn in the world to find me.” She sniffed and wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. “That’s all right. I forgive you.” As if the unicorn had done her a great wrong. Cassian was almost tempted to laugh until Nesta spoke again. “All right, I’m ready.”

Cassian blinked. “Ready? Do you think you’re coming with us? We’ve an important mission to accomplish!”

“Can’t I come?” Nesta merely raised an eyebrow and nodded at the unicorn. “Ask her.”

“We go to seek King Hybern and find out what he did with the rest of her kind.” Cassian crossed his arms. “It is too dangerous for the likes of you.”

“For the likes--” In Nesta’ shock, she dropped her arm from the unicorn, both hands tightening into fists against her side. “How do you think the rest of us have been since the war? Living off the land, rummaging here and there for food, spending every waking moment looking over your shoulder! The war may be over, magician, but there are those of us who still live with the consequences every day. The things I’ve had to do--” She stopped herself then, as if suddenly aware of her words and their meaning, of how close she had just come to possibly revealing too much about herself to one such as him.

Cassian studied Nesta for a long moment. She was all fire and passion, determination and stubbornness filling her eyes, spilling over into her stance, the way she now held her arms crossed close against her body. It had not gone unnoticed by him the disdain that radiated from her within the camp. She had stayed with Tamlin out of necessity, not out of desire for him or for his dream of chasing after High Lord Rhysand. She seemed to hold most Fae in disdain, including him. He saw the way she glared at him, and he watched as her eyes only softened when gazing upon the unicorn.

 _If you had been waiting to see another unicorn as long as I have,_  she had said. Did she know what happened to the other unicorns? _The things I’ve had to do_. Had she suffered some loss thanks to the very same creature he and his unicorn now sought? Rage burned within her, an inferno of anger, but loss too—such grief that both fueled her rage and fed off of it. He could not guess at what she had lost to Hybern or the creature nor how he even knew, but he felt it then all the same, and an overwhelming desire to protect her surged through him.

When she finally noticed Cassian standing before her, she looked up into his eyes. How he came to be standing so close to her, he himself did not know, but he did not hesitate to speak the feelings he felt now so deep within.

His voice was rough as he said, “Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from here. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I fought to protect someone then, and while I do not have half the power I used to, I can think of nothing I want more than to protect this unicorn and her kind.”

A tear slid down Nesta’s cheek, and Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch. “Whatever happened to you out there,” he said softly, “I will not let happen again.”

Only then did she step back from him and Cassian let his hand drop to his side.

“Do--do you even know where you are going?” Nesta’s voice wavered slightly as she looked down, as if she were addressing only the unicorn and not him.

“We’ve an idea,” Cassian answered anyway. “Rhysand came the closest to defeating Hybern, you know. We could never get close enough to his Cauldron, but some of his forces were able to drive him back far enough to a small spit of land he has since declared his own Court. The other High Lords won’t recognize him, of course, but he hasn’t attacked anyone lately either, preferring to stay inside his dismal castle, no doubt conjuring up even more dangerous and gruesome monsters in the meantime. We think he has set one of his creatures, Bryaxis, loose, and that is why the unicorns are vanishing.”

“His castle is not so far from here,” Nesta mused thoughtfully, and Cassian nodded. “They say,” she continued, “that those that are made by the Cauldron are often doomed to return, whether they will it or no. If the creature Bryaxis was indeed forged from the magic of the Cauldron, then to Hybern's castle you must go. That is where you will find him and your answers. And I will take you there.”

“Why should we trust you?” he scoffed, crossing his arms against his chest. Despite his intense desire to protect her, Cassian found it hard to trust Nesta, sensing too that her secrets ran darker and deeper than even she had hinted at. “How do you know exactly where Hybern is hiding?”

She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I told you: I'm doomed.”

 

 


End file.
